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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28743540">And Sew It Begins</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/kelleigh'>kelleigh (girlfromcarolina)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Flirting, Fluff, Hobbies, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, Mentions of Therapy, Quilting, Shy Jensen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:55:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,299</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28743540</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/kelleigh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen hears movement at the back of the little quilt shop and breathes a sigh of relief. But the person who emerges from the stockroom is definitely not the willowy, gray-haired woman he’s used to chatting with.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Where Every Birthday is Bangin'</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>And Sew It Begins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/zubeneschamali/gifts">zubeneschamali</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Birthday Z! I truly hope you enjoy this little piece of J2 fluff that I crafted just for you! ❤</p><p>Thank you to dugindeep for the beta!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jensen looks around the parking lot before getting out of his truck. It’s a quiet afternoon in the little strip mall, only a few other cars parked in front of the insurance agency and physical therapy office. Positive that no one is watching, he steps out and walks to the store in between, the one with the cheery, colorful window display and block letters across the glass.</p><p>
  <b>WILD &amp; WOOLY OF AUSTIN</b>
</p><p>As soon as he steps inside, Jensen takes a deep breath. There’s something about the swirls of color around him, the patterns and textures, that’s comforting. To him, the fabrics and yarns and kits speak of possibility and creativity, two things that were severely lacking in Jensen’s life up until eighteen months ago.</p><p>“Hey, Connie,” he calls out softly, “I got your message about the new batiks.”</p><p>Eager to check out the new collection of colorfully dyed cotton batik fabrics, he rounds a display of scissors in every shape and size expecting to see Connie, the shop’s owner, sitting on a stool behind the register, reading on her iPad, flipping through a book of patterns, or even working on a project of her own. But when he looks over, there’s no one there. Moving further into the shop towards the cutting counter, Jensen begins to worry. Did something happen to Connie? Even though she was only in her mid-sixties and seemed healthy and active, Jensen figures anything is unfortunately possible.</p><p>He hears movement at the back of the shop and breathes a sigh of relief. But the person who emerges from the stockroom is definitely <i>not</i> the willowy, gray-haired woman he’s used to chatting with.</p><p>“Hey, sorry. I was moving a shelf back there and didn’t hear you come in.”</p><p>“I...” Jensen is too dumbstruck to utter more than a single syllable.</p><p>“Oh, are you Jensen?” the guy says, a smile stretching across his tanned face, digging dimples into his cheeks. He is either uncaring or oblivious to the fact that Jensen is staring at him with a slack jaw. “Connie mentioned you’d probably stop by this afternoon.”</p><p>Jensen recovers enough to ask what he knows is a stupid question. “You work here?” He’s been coming to this little shop for the better part of a year and a half and he’s never seen this guy. He would have remembered those dimples, those shoulders, those <i>legs</i>.</p><p>“Yeah, well...no, not really?” When he shakes his head, his chestnut hair falls flatteringly around his ears. “This is my aunt’s shop, and she’s in the hospital right now—”</p><p>Jensen’s stomach sinks and he cuts in. “Is Connie okay?”</p><p>The guy stares at him for a brief moment before he smiles again. “Oh yeah, yeah. She’s been putting off a knee replacement. She’ll be back in a couple of weeks”</p><p>Jensen’s relief lasts only until the rest of the information sinks in. “Connie is your aunt?”</p><p>“Yup, I’m Jared. Jared Padalecki.”</p><p>His thoughts hit a snag, a memory popping up.</p><p>
  <i>“I should introduce you to my nephew,” Connie teases as Jensen lays out squares on the counter, frustrated that he can’t seem to find the right arrangement that would make the colors pop. “He’d take one look at this and know exactly what you need.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Jensen has heard her bragging about her nephew before. “Is this the same guy who won his first show ribbon at seventeen?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Connie smiles. “Maybe you should ask him about it yourself sometime.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Sounds like a sneaky way of trying to set me up.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Why not? I bet the two of you would get along famously.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I’m not looking for a date right now, not even with your gifted nephew.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“He’s cute,” Connie adds with a wink. Jensen figures that’s what all sweet old ladies say about their nephews and grandsons. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“If this pattern gives me any more trouble, I’ll consider it,” he tells her, all while hoping she’ll forget all about it.</i>
</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Oh no.</p><p>This Adonis in front of him is Connie’s nephew. The guy who started sewing before he was ten. Photos of him as a kid are hanging behind the counter, but that boy was skinny and pale, with bony knees and elbows and a half-toothless smile. Nothing like the man with the perfect bone structure grinning at Jensen like he knows all of his deepest secrets.</p><p>“I, um…the batiks?” Jensen trips over his own tongue trying to recover. While he’s heard all about Jared and his abilities with a sewing machine, he prays that the reverse isn’t true. Jensen hadn’t even used a sewing machine until a year and a half ago when he ended up with his grandmother’s Singer machine after his brother’s wife declined to take it. The therapist helping him with his lingering PTSD had been encouraging him to find a new hobby for months, insisting it would help to have an outlet to work off some of his excess stress and clear his mind. Now, dozens of jelly rolls, kits, and ten-inch square bundles later, Jensen’s guest room has turned into a full quilting studio.</p><p>At first, and with step-by-step instructions from Connie printed out beside him, Jensen sewed in fits and starts until he got the hang of the machine. His stitches weren’t always straight and he had no sense of what fabrics to put together, but when he sewed his first squares together, he’d smiled. As time went on and life edged closer and closer to normal, Jensen began to sew regularly after his shifts at the auto parts store. From time to time, when nightmares and a pounding in his chest kept him from sleeping, he’d head into the guest room to sew row after row instead of tossing and turning in bed.</p><p>Jared, bless his heart, gracefully accepts the change in subject. “Sure, Jensen, they’re right back here.”</p><p>The way he says Jensen’s name doesn’t help though, soft and understanding. If Jensen had any sense of self-preservation left, he’d turn tail and get back in his truck before he embarrasses himself further. But he came all this way for new fabric and damn if he’s leaving empty handed because of a hot guy.</p><p>Hell, Jensen knows he’s a <i>hot guy</i> too, and if they were in a bar or a club right now, he’d have no problem turning on the charm and using his green eyes to get what he wants. But Jared is a <i>hot guy</i> with an Instagram following that rivals minor celebrities (according to his aunt, anyway), well known in quilting circles and not just because of his gender.</p><p>He follows Jared back to the register, trying not to let his stare slip too low. He can’t help a brief dip to admire Jared’s narrow hips in soft-looking denim.</p><p>“What are you working on?”</p><p>Raising his eyes, Jensen finds Jared watching him sort through the pile of colorful new fabrics. His cheeks are burning. “I told my sister I’d make a quilt for her guest room. She loves bright colors and traveling.”</p><p>“Got a pattern in mind?”</p><p>When did genuine curiosity become such a turn on? Jensen shakes his head. “I haven’t graduated beyond simple squares and straight lines, so...not really.”</p><p>“Nothing wrong with the basics, and you can do a lot with squares,” Jared says cheerily. “We’ve all gotta start somewhere. What have you done so far?”</p><p>Under Jared’s encouraging and patient expression, Jensen pulls out his phone and figures he might as well jump all the way in. “The first thing I did, with your aunt’s help, was a block quilt with some of my grandmother’s old fabrics.” He taps until he finds a decent photo and shows it to Jared, watching the way his gaze softens a fraction. “When I started buying fabrics I liked, I wanted something a little different, so I did strips.”</p><p>Jared nods. “The rail fence was one of my favorite patterns as a kid,” he explains, looking at the screen as Jensen brings up those photos. “Those are some great fabrics you picked out. The navy blue is rich.”</p><p>“I was trying to match the stuff in my bedroom.” Jensen doesn’t know why he added that, but the way Jared’s eyes fill with heat tells him that he’s onto something.</p><p>Scrolling through a few more photos of the two quilts, before and after they’d been quilted and finished by a friend of Connie’s, Jensen listens to Jared’s feedback and tries to keep the butterflies from getting too eager in his stomach.</p><p>“I think you’re ready for the next level,” Jared eventually says with that same bright smile. Leaning over the counter and brushing against Jensen’s side to grab a thin pattern book from the metal rack. “How do you feel about pinwheels?”</p><p>Jensen glances at the cover. “Triangles?”</p><p>“They’re squares, just with a little more cutting.” Jared flips through a few pages until he finds what he’s looking for. “You’ve done rails too, so how about framed pinwheels?”</p><p>“You might be overestimating my talents.”</p><p>“I doubt it,” Jared argues with a smirk. Never, not once, did Jensen ever picture being <i>flirted with</i> in a quilt shop; his embarrassment is beginning to fade in the light of Jared’s enthusiasm and willingness to help. “You can do as many colors as you want, or you can go with a limited range of fabrics if you have a color in mind.”</p><p>The next hour flies by as the two of them talk over patterns and possibilities. Connie has talked him through ideas before, though not in this much detail. Jared greets the handful of customers who do come in, cutting fabric when he needs to. Most know exactly what they’re looking for and greet Jared with warm familiarity. (Jensen wonders why he’s never been lucky enough to drop in when Jared’s here.) Jared’s attention always comes right back to Jensen’s project, pulling bolts and arranging them for Jensen’s input.</p><p>It ought to feel intimidating considering everything Jensen has heard about Jared’s talents for quilting and textile art. He <i>may</i> have discreetly searched for Jared’s Instagram while Jared was cutting yardage of Kona cotton for someone, and the photos he saw were even more impressive than Connie made them sound. Yet the longer he spends with Jared, the more comfortable Jensen feels. Their conversation goes off on tangents that get more and more personal, from Jensen’s time overseas to the rigors of the final year of Jared’s graduate program that leaves little time for creativity. When Jared admits that he started sewing with his aunt to escape a hectic home situation, describing how the patterns and repetition calmed him, Jensen experiences an unexpected camaraderie.</p><p>On the getting-to-know-someone scale, it’s better than a first date.</p><p>Eventually, Jensen looks at his phone and realizes that he’s spent almost two and a half hours in the shop. He hopes like hell that he’s got a spare work polo in his truck, because he definitely won’t have time to run home and grab one.</p><p>“Sorry for taking up all your time,” he says as Jared finishes ringing up the neat stack of fabrics he chose. “You’ve been insanely helpful.”</p><p>Jared hands Jensen’s credit card back. “I give out pointers all the time, but it was nice to go a little more in-depth, especially with someone who’s so easy to talk to.”</p><p>That last part brings Jensen up short as if his heart had skipped a stitch. The shop is suddenly quiet enough to hear a pin drop as their eyes meet across the counter. There’s a part of Jensen that insists Jared would say that to anyone, but his doubts are overridden by the warmth in Jared’s gaze and the slightly awkward angle of his smile.</p><p>“I’m not going to turn down free help from a celebrity quilter,” Jensen teases, praying he hasn’t misread the tone. </p><p>“Maybe I could come over and help? Some one-on-one private tutoring.”</p><p>Jensen laughs lightly, relieved. “I don’t know, I’m pretty hopeless.”</p><p>Jared’s eyes rake over his body, a thorough appreciation from head to toe. Again, Jensen can’t help thinking that if they were in a club, he’d already have this man in a dark corner. </p><p>“Not at everything, I bet.”</p><p>“You’d win that bet,” Jensen says, slipping into a more confident stance. Out of the two of them, Jared might be the expert when it comes to crafting, but no one has ever questioned Jensen’s creativity when it comes to the bedroom.</p><p>“I have your number,” Jared says, voice heavy with the implication that he plans on using it in the near future. “You know, for quilt-related matters. I can even bring samples to your place.”</p><p>“Nice of you to go above and beyond for your customers.” Jensen steps back, because <i>shit</i>, he’s really going to be late at this point. “I’m free on Friday night.”</p><p>Jared beams. “Looking forward to seeing what you can do.”</p><p>“Likewise.” Jensen walks out with a matching smile on his face and wears it all the way to his truck.</p><p>As far as hobbies go, he’d settled on a damn good one. Peace of mind and now a date. Quilting was supposed to relieve his stress, but Jensen doubts his therapist had anything like <i>this</i> in mind when she suggested it.</p><p>Jensen is idling at a red light on his way to the auto parts store when his phone dings.</p><p>
  <b>I hope the quilt on your bed can withstand everything I want to do to you on it.</b>
</p><p>Jensen stares at the text, his mind already racing to come up with its own plans. The light is still red, so he risks sending a message back, not stopping to overthink his response.</p><p>
  <b>If it’s not, I’m pretty sure you’ll help me make one that is.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>FIN.</p>
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